


Divine Right

by manic_intent



Series: A Sort of Runic Rhyme [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas prompts, Full spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok, M/M, No Infinity War, That Postcanon AU that takes place some time after Thor: Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “Why ‘Point Break’?” Thor asked, as Tony ran the last set of diagnostics on the new Quinjet. Thor was slouched in one of the seats, dressed in clothes Tony had more recently supplied: shirts and jeans had never looked so good.“What about it?” Tony ran over the system log as F.R.I.D.A.Y. projected the data scroll onto the hull.“My voice print code. On the previous Quinjet.”“It’s just a joke. I never really expected you to have to activate it on your own. You found that old thing? What happened to it?”





	Divine Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingevil/gifts).



> Last of the Christmas Prompts: Perspectives, Thunderiron.

“Why ‘Point Break’?” Thor asked, as Tony ran the last set of diagnostics on the new Quinjet. Thor was slouched in one of the seats, dressed in clothes Tony had more recently supplied: shirts and jeans had never looked so good. 

“What about it?” Tony ran over the system log as F.R.I.D.A.Y. projected the data scroll onto the hull. 

“My voice print code. On the previous Quinjet.” 

“It’s just a joke. I never really expected you to have to activate it on your own. You found that old thing? What happened to it?” 

“Banner used it to get to Sakaar. The Hulk destroyed it.” 

“Uh, yeah, about that. Not sure how he managed that, to be honest. Hell, it takes what, nine months to get to Mars from here on a rocket ship. The Quinjet’s fast, but it isn’t _that_ fast. Two years wouldn’t have gotten the Quinjet much further than that, let alone to wherever the hell Sakaar is.” 

“It’s a confluence point for fold-space wormholes.” Thor frowned to himself. “That was not the right word. Perhaps the right word doesn’t exist yet in your language. The Quinjet was folded into an entry point and fed out to the universal exodus, the weight-key Sakaar.” Thor paused again, cocking his head. “No, the words are still wrong. Your astrophysics is still being studied at a primitive level.” 

Tony lowered his arm. “You’re saying there’s some sort of wormhole nearby. Reachable by something like the Quinjet.” 

“Evidently, since Banner ended up in Sakaar. As did I, albeit by hyperspace disjunction. And my brother. It’s lucky that we all ended up in Sakaar during the same century, to be honest, let alone at the same time.” 

“And so you guys getting from Asgard to here within a few years was also through wormholes?”

“Not directly, no. Without Asgard we don’t have that kind of technology any longer. We used the Yggdrasil Gate to get from Asgard to the Xandarian System, refuelled at Xandar, and used the Xosar Gate to get to the Midgardian System, after which yes, it took a year’s burn to get to Earth.” 

“Gates?” 

“Rather like the Bifrost, but larger. Remnants of the Elder Races, who once used the Gate to connect all known systems into a single network. Some Gates have since grown dark, especially in Rim Space, but the reasons are still unknown.” 

“So other people could use this Xosar Gate to get here?” Astrophysics and astronomy had never been of any real interest to Tony, and he was now regretting it, but at least he could try and focus on the specifics. Like how they were possibly all open to alien invasions now, and not the fun kind. 

“Not without knowing the right coordinates. The Gates allow starships with Celestial Drives to slingshot to computable systems. Without the right computations, it’d be like trying to hit one of your ants with a needle, from parsecs away. Had the Chitauri not been called here, they would not have found Earth.” 

“That gives me peace of mind… _not_.” 

“Your life is short. Why worry? Besides, Asgard is here now. We’ve had experience fighting the Chitauri.”

“Didn’t you tell the UN that most of your standing army was murdered by your sister and the refugees now include just noncoms?” Tony pointed out dryly. 

“I mean I’m here now. And Loki, and Valkyrie, and Banner. The Revengers. Like the Avengers, but with more…” Thor waved a hand vaguely, grinning. 

“It’s a stupid name,” Tony told him, as he finished scanning the diagnostics. 

“No it’s not. If it’s stupid then the ‘Avengers’ is also a stupid name.”

“Never said it wasn’t. The team would’ve been called ‘Tony Stark and Friends’, if I had any say about it.” 

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, does it.” Thor uncurled to his feet, ambling over to nip Tony on the back of his neck, then he leaned heavily against Tony as he curled an arm around Tony’s waist, looking curiously at the scrolling code. He smiled, in the uncomfortably paternal way he tended to, whenever ‘Midgardian technology’ amused him. It was always unsettling to see.

Normally, Tony would grit his teeth and choke down his reaction and have a drink afterwards. Now, though… “Are we really that bad?” 

“Hmm?”

“Our tech. Is it really that primitive?” 

“We-ell,” Thor hedged, scanning the rest of the code, raising his eyebrows, then looking over the Quinjet’s controls. “Some things you people do fairly well. Like your mead, it’s rather acceptable. Most other things, eh.” 

“About right for a pre-space age civ or just ‘eh’?” 

“Not just ‘eh’ but with a healthy dose of ‘why?’, actually.” Thor pointed at the fuel gauge. “You people still run much of your tech via burning up fossil material that you dug out of the ground. Did nobody maybe think that was a bad idea? Maybe a little bit poisonous for your air?” 

“Okay, I concede your point. Though the Quinjet doesn’t really run on jet fuel. It’s a redundancy, in case the arc reactor tech in here has a malfunction.” 

“And this,” Thor tapped the plastic buttons on Tony’s shirt. “Making materials that don’t biodegrade or can’t be easily smelted down and remade to something else, strange. The sheer amount of waste that your civilisation produces, strange. Or the fact that your people still rely on actual agriculture for your food, amazing. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw it. Agriculture is what civilisations do when they’ve just started out.” 

“You guys don’t eat? Or you eat protein cubes?” 

“I think you people came up with roughly the same idea of what we have, except you use it to print ‘plastic’.” Thor shuddered. 

“You guys _3D-print_ all your food?” 

“And most of our tools, and… everything. The concept is similar. Don’t worry,” Thor said, mistaking Tony’s surprise for disbelief, “we’re rebuilding the technology on New Asgard as we speak. Once it’s up and running, you’ll see. And yes, the patents will be yours.”

“I suppose if New Asgard is self-sufficient that should get some of the less crazy people off my back.” Stark Industries had been picketed for weeks. “Or so we hope.” 

“Things will work out,” Thor said complacently. “But in the meantime.” He pointedly pressed a palm to the bioscan. “I don’t want to be ‘Point Break’. I want to be ‘Strongest Avenger’.” 

“That’s Banner.” 

“I beat him in a fight. I’m the strongest.”

“Ah, but can you beat him in a fight _now_?” 

Thor scowled. “I haven’t tried, but I suppose I probably could. Let’s find out. Where is Banner?” 

“Still working something out with Natasha, I think. They’re trying to revert Hulk back to Bruce.” 

“Yes, I know. Valkyrie checks in on them often. She says they’re doing well, given the circumstances. Loki offered to try some spells, but Natasha declined.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” 

“I’ve told her, he’s maybe, possibly reformed, but she said it was fine.” Thor sighed. “I know my brother is often treacherous, a liar, a thief, a lover of chaos, amoral, selfish, and self-involved, but that just makes him… well, _human_. Maybe he has some human blood in him. Along with the Jotun blood. It’d explain why he is the way he is. The Jotun don’t go for the whole trickster angle. They’re more of the ‘Rawrr, ice apocalypse, destroy’ angle.” 

“… I’m pretty sure you just insulted my entire species,” Tony said, though he couldn’t exactly disagree. 

He’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting any number of Asgardians over the past few weeks, and save for Valkyrie, who’d apparently suffered some sort of serious trauma that Thor didn’t want to discuss, they’d all been gentle, polite, and efficient people. Many of them had also stared at him with a sort of indulgent bemusement, like watching a puppy learning a new trick, but given they’d arrived in a huge spaceship using technology Tony hadn’t even heard of until a few weeks ago, he’d let that slide. 

“I spoke the truth, which isn’t an insult.” Thor prodded the bioscan, which asked him politely for a voice print. “Stark.” 

“I’m going to rework your print to ‘Most Childish Avenger’, at this point,” Tony told him. “What happened to my clothes? The previous Quinjet had my stuff.” 

Thor smirked at him. Thor had been the reason why Tony’s clothes had been left discarded in the Quinjet, a rough, quick fuck before they’d had to knuckle down to business. He’d thrown on fresh clothes afterwards, then what with everything going down he’d plain forgotten about the Quinjet, let alone the damn clothes. “They were put to good use,” Thor said, and pushed Tony’s blazer off his shoulders, crowding him against the hull. 

“I’m not yet done here,” Tony said, but his irritation only sounded petulant as his voice hitched: Thor had worked his teeth into the soft skin of Tony’s throat just above his collar, rumbling against him with a low and hungry purr. 

“Of course you are. You’re not even meant to be here. You’re hiding from your board meeting.” Thor braced Tony’s weight against the hull, shifting him easily up a foot until they were face to face. 

“How’d you know about _that_?” Thor was _gorgeous_ , up close like this, nothing out of place, that warm scent—

“Pepper made me carry one of your phone devices, while the raven project is still underway. I’m afraid she doesn’t like birds.” 

“Can’t imagine why,” Tony said, and leaned in for a kiss before Thor could launch into another full-throated defense of avian communications. Thor tucked Tony’s legs around his waist, taking his weight, but it still felt crazy to be doing this at Tony’s age, sneaking some sort of quickie with a teammate in Avengers HQ to avoid attending board meetings. Still. It wasn’t as though Tony had ever really had to grow up. 

Money, gender, and the colour of his skin had conspired to give him a life where he could do whatever he wanted, and all right, so Tony hadn’t always used this leeway in a remotely responsible manner, but responsibility could fuck itself if this was the alternative. Thor had figured out Tony’s belt, and was working on his shoes, kissing him lazily as he went, as though balancing Tony’s weight one-handed while navigating clothes wasn’t difficult. 

All Tony could do was hang on and wish he were younger. Young enough that he could have real fun being an Avenger, keep up with the others without straining himself, with _Thor_. Young enough not to worry about throwing his back if Thor took him like this against the Quinjet. Young enough not to worry about counting the decades he still had left, with so much more to do, so little time. Tony made a strangled wounded sound and kissed Thor back, squeezing his eyes shut. He had no right to wish for more time when life had already conspired to give him so much. But it was human to want more. 

Thor huffed against him, as though he knew. He stripped Tony of his shoes and trousers, and tugged off underwear in impatient jerks. His lust was guileless in a way Tony had never been used to: at best, Thor was amused by Tony’s wealth, at worst, indifferent. No one else in the world looked at Tony with quite so little baggage. Tony breathed deep, hands clenched into Thor’s shirt. Desire made simple. Only with Thor. 

He was still slick and stretched from the morning, but Thor hummed and spat on his fingers and worked fingers into him anyway, the thick unyielding press of them spreading Tony open, making him whine and buck and bite. Thor made nonsense soothing sounds against his cheek, ignoring Tony as Tony gasped, “C’mon, Thor, I don’t need the prep, c’mon, someone’s gonna be checking in on us, ngh, get on with it—”

“Patience,” Thor said, always a smug bastard when he had Tony at his mercy like this. He took Tony slowly against the hull, nudging inside him with each breath, chuckling when Tony snarled at him and clawed down Thor’s back with futile urgency. Once pressed deep, Thor purred a string of alien consonants against Tony’s ear, hands curling into fists in the back of Tony’s shirt.

“English,” Tony gasped, because he was greedy for this too, the least and best of secrets between them. Thor smiled, his last eye dilated, kissing Tony until the stretch eased and he could move, rocking Tony inches up against the warming hull with each thrust. 

“Hmm,” Thor rumbled, a liquid animal hum, then he chuckled as Tony hissed, scrabbling at broad shoulders. “English is a crude language, with no real permanence. Better to tell you how much I want you in a language that hasn’t changed in a hundred years, a thousand years,” Thor whispered, his lips pressed against Tony’s ear. More consonants, broken against Allspeak. Tony turned his cheek, pressing skin against metal, bleeding his cries into the air. Anyone in the hangar could probably hear him at this rate. Tony didn’t care. The only important thing given voice to was being murmured into his ear, for him and him alone. 

“Please,” Tony begged, when he was dizzy from it, achy with lust and the ugly fearful possessiveness that had always been the only way Tony had known how to love. Thor grinned at him, teeth bared, and took him harder, until Tony was shouting, fingertips digging into the back of Thor’s neck. Limp, he breathed shakily as Thor thrust deeply, kissing the side of Tony’s mouth as he spilled, then licking into him, rumbling again, a thumb rubbing over Tony’s cheekbone, his jaw, his throat.

#

“This is why I end up leaving clothes in the Quinjet,” Tony complained, as he set air recyclers on high and changed out of his sweat-soaked shirt. Thor smirked at him from the door out, a hip pressed against the frame.

“You have lots of clothes.”

“I know, but it tends to give everyone a broad hint about what we’re doing anywhere. Steve used to…” Tony trailed off, gritting his teeth. _Steve_. It was funny how even at his age Tony could still be disappointed. 

“Your lives are short,” Thor said, striding over, pressing his palms over Tony’s arms, stroking up to his shoulders and back to his elbows. “Yet you’d waste them on grudges.”

“Says the person whose siblings’ grudges cause intergalactic incidents.” 

“Ah, well, we’re working on that,” Thor said, not in the least deterred by reminders of Asgardian imperial fallacies. “But while Loki and I have centuries to learn how to live with each other, to _change_ , you don’t. Don’t live with regrets.”

“I try not to.” Tony also tried not to sound so defensive, but it likely didn’t work—Thor cocked his head.

“Good, good. So. Tomorrow is a tradition that your people call Christmas, yes? A near global holiday of good tidings and cheer, Heimdall tells me. The birthday of one of your Gods? Perhaps I should inform your UN of my birthday. This world could do with more cheer.” 

“Not sure that’ll go down well,” Tony said, though he started to laugh. “But what the hell. Bring it up at the next UN meeting.” 

“In the meantime, we intend to celebrate the general holiday season with a party on New Asgard. Everyone is invited.”

“Really? Your food, uh, replication technology’s already operating that well?” 

“Not particularly, but one of your human wizards has offered to provide all the alcohol we need, and being able to get properly soused is the main point of any good party.” Thor beamed, patting Tony heavily on the back. 

“I’ll… see what I can arrange.” Fly out some chefs, maybe, in the name of intergalactic harmony and all that jazz. 

“In the meantime, I believe the Eve is meant to be celebrated with family?” 

“It depends—”

“Excellent.” Thor started to push Tony to the exit. “Let’s go.” 

“Go? Go where?” 

“Loki tells me that he has arranged a place. Heimdall and Valkyrie are already there, along with some friends. You’ve met Korg. Perhaps Banner and Natasha, if they felt like it.” 

“ _Loki_.” Tony tried to dig in his heels, but Thor merely pushed him along as though he hadn’t noticed. 

“He assures me that he will not stab anyone over the course of the evening, whether figuratively or literally.” Thor said, rubbing his thumb over Tony’s spine. “So come. In the name of good cheer and some other god’s birthday.” 

Tony shook his head, curling an arm around Thor’s waist in turn. It was hard to refuse. And besides. _Family_. Tony hadn’t had a family Christmas for years. He was fairly sure he’d ruined it when it had been him and Pepper. This felt like Tony being given another chance, one that wasn’t so easily broken. 

“All right, big guy. But just saying, if I get murdered by your brother tonight, I’m going to be pissed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays everyone!  
> \--  
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com


End file.
